


The Change

by PanPacificPines



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Older, horror?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanPacificPines/pseuds/PanPacificPines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Horror? drabble that I was inspired to do one day. Gravity Falls has an endless supply of secrets. For one thing the woods are way bigger on the inside than they are from the outside. Sometimes these secrets are older and more puzzling than anyone could possibly imagine. What happens when the twins stumble upon such a secret? Perhaps these things should come with warning labels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Change

“Wooooah” Mabel’s eyes glittered “What do you think it is?”  
“I think it should say Do not touch” Dipper’s hands were a blur, flipping over page after page in the musty old tome. “I can’t find anything that looks like this in any of the journals! Also hands off.” a knobbly, gnarled oak branch that’d served as his walking stick for this trip blocked her path, without Dipper ever needing to look up.  
"Hey! A little faith here! This isn’t my first rodeo"  
“Mmmhmm. Okay, Abu.” The pages are searched for a second and a third time each before the walking stick is placed down and a pen is withdrawn from an inner pocket of Dipper’s vest and the clicking starts almost immediately.“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms in front of her, puffing her cheeks out and her right foot tapped an impatient staccato on the bare stone floor.

“You know damn well what I mean, Mabel. *click-click-click* You’re going to want to touch it because it’s sparkly and cool looking, but if this is a cave of wonders then unless we know what we’re dealing with here we really shouldn’t be messing with it.” He restores the Journal to the cavernous pockets of his vest and retrieves another, this one with a somewhat different design on the cover. The golden, metallic hand that would normally be gracing the surface of the front cover still was, though it was missing a finger. It was emblazoned with a number 4 in black ink and in the cardinal directions above, below and to either side of the hand were a pine tree, a shooting star, a question mark and what appeared to be a fish eating a pacman pellet. When he was satisfied that he’d found the right page, he started sketching furiously, his head jerking up and down to make sure he captured the details. 

The chamber would have looked at home in a Central American jungle, with vines and other tropical plants pushing their ways through the openings in the floor and walls. Half of the ceiling had collapsed, perhaps decades or centuries ago. The stone construction was mismatched. Some of the blocks were over ten feet across and obviously volcanic in origin. Others were slate or granite. The more discomforting slabs appeared to be shaped out of tremendous blocks of coral. The air felt damp and with an obvious hint of heat that should have been out of place at this elevation. They’d hiked for hours to get here and the path turned back round on itself several times as they looped their way up the unfamiliar mountain peak. With every mile they trekked the vegetation seemed to change, mutate, becoming less and less familiar until they were each as alien as the last. The sounds of the animals had changed from familiar birds of the northwestern united states to at some times unsettling calls and screeches. 

 

Then there was the thing itself. Dipper’s hands and eyes were well trained at this type of ‘Pirate Archaeology’ as his sister had come to call it. Thick lines of ink captured the odd shadows and deep lines of the structures and he switched several times to thinner pens for the more detailed work, ignoring the voice he knew he could hear next to him if he shifted his focus. Whatever she had to say could wait another few seconds. It could have been gold, but then again maybe it was marble. Depending on how the light hit it, it changed. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. It seemed to change from second to second. Dipper had sketched 5 different variations of the thing at the bottom of the page to reflect exactly that. It sat atop a stone pedestal rising on a plinth surrounded by pillars carved in various types of stone. Symbols adorned nearly every surface. Pages turned back and forward again to try to accurately capture each and every single one of them and their locations in detail. The carvings themselves stayed the same, unlike the central figure, but either it was one giant mysterious language or several, perhaps a half dozen, other nearly as complicated symbolic scripts. His attention shifted back to the centerpiece. If this place had ever been looted before, it didn’t show. The place seemed worn not only by weather from the exposure but from hands and feet scraping over the various stone surfaces. The statue itself could have been contained in perhaps a two foot cube. It was of a face, but the art style and properties couldn’t be nailed down. One moment it had a decidedly reptilian appearance, at others it had fangs and whiskers. Dipper dared not think about how to identify some of the shapes it took.

 

“HEY! Earth to Short Round! Or wherever the hell we are anyway!”  
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mabe, I was in the moment. Had to finish-did you just call me Short Round?”  
“That’s Mr. Jones to you, and yes I did. You got nicknames for me then I’ve got ‘em for you.”  
“That’s fair, I guess.” he blew on the freshest of the ink to make sure it was dry before setting it down to take a closer look, satisfied that he’d captured all of the details he could without learning more first.  
“So, I’ll repeat, what do you think it is?”  
“Honestly? I’d say it was a totem of some kind, given where we’re supposed to be, but I’m not sure we’re in Kansas anymore. So really, your guess is as good as mine, cuz that’s all I’ve got.”  
“Well it’s definitely magic. that’s for sure.”  
“No doubt. The question is just how magic it is.”  
“This definitely looks like a temple, Dip, so I’m gonna go ahead and say this is some kind of altar.”  
“Look at you, being all ‘Mr. Jones’ and stuff” He jabbed at her arm with the clicker of his pen. “I bet you’re right too. I can’t put my finger on what kind of God it’d be though.”

“Bet you a cupcake it’s an ugly one.”  
“No bet, most of them are. I mean once you can see what they really look like.” Remembering one of his artifacts, he pulled a monocle from his pocket and held it up to his right eye, squinting the left. The glass of the piece was a goldish green color and illuminated anything seen through it. “Also, yeah, magic is practically spewing out of this whole place. Especially that.” His pen jabbed towards the central figure of the temple. “Can’t even see it through the spirit detector with all of the elemental particles coming off of it.”  
“Weeeeell…”  
“No.”  
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”  
“You want to touch it.”  
“Well so do you!”   
“But I’m not a big fan of being filled with hornets made of lava or having all of my blood replaced with paprika.”  
“Well I wasn’t gonna touch it with my HAND. Jeeze. I’m not stupid.”  
“What then?”  
“Stick. Duh.”  
“……That should probably be fine.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Minutes later they’d exhausted nearly all of their options. They’d chucked small pebbles at it, poked it with their walking sticks and even tossed some chicken bones at it from their lunch. Nothing happened. 

“I’m gonna do it.”  
“Mabes. Seriously.”  
“What’s the worst that could happen?”  
“Everything. Everything could happen and that’s definitely a situation I don’t want to explore in the middle of the Oregon, er, jungle.”  
“Alright, well tell me this, what’re the chances that this thing still still be here if we come back for it later?”  
“This place looks like it hasn’t been touched in centuries, maybe longer.”  
“Yeah, Bro, that’s kind of my point. We’ll hike back to the shack and come back tomorrow or the day after with more stuff to help us research and the path that led us here will be gone. Or we’ll find the temple and it’ll look 10 thousand years older and it’ll be nothing but rubble.”  
“you bring up a good point.”  
“Name one time that I haven’t! Don’t answer that.”  
“So how do we decide?” Dipper puzzled. “Cuz if this screws one of us up, the other is gonna have to drag them down.”  
“Bluh, bro. We have our emergency transponders. We’d only have to drag the other far enough until rescue can come. As long as it’s not immediately fatal we’ll be fine. Plus the up side is that we might turn into demigods or become psychic or vampires or something.”  
“I fail to see how that last one is a good thing.”   
“Whatever. Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?” They both shrugged and placed a fist on top of an upturned palm.  
“Ready?”  
“Yup."   
Then in unison they chanted as their fists slapped down on their palms three times. "Rock, Paper, Scissors”  
“Shoot!” simultaneously instead of throwing their symbol they both slapped their hand on the statue. They shared a chuckle before a bolt of energy shook through both of their teenage frames. Light swirled and rippled around them in a vortex of color. They release their hands from the statue and a wind rips through the room, flowing outward from the pedestal. Both twins reach for each other, hanging on not only for themselves, but to keep the other safe.   
Energy rippled through both of their forms again and they changed. Dipper’s shape softened, becoming identical to his sister, before she herself changed to become what would have been his double before they both shifted back. They became younger versions of themselves, then older, their skins change color and texture. One moment they seem to be made of yarn and the next they’re molded from clay. In that moment Mabel looked down at heir own hand and to the hand gripping it and she shrieked, releasing his grip.

 

The rainbow energies of the vortex shifted, the wind becoming more violent and pushed them further from each other as though a tornado had touched down in between their bodies.  
“Dipper!”  
"Mabel!“  
Pain racks both of them. Dipper’s shrieks in agony as another pair of legs erupt from his body and his shape elongates. Bony nubs push their way through his scalp and the bones of his feet shift, squeezing and elongating into hooves. A beastial roar escapes him, coming from a much deeper place inside of him than just his physical form. He cast his eyes over to Mabel suddenly her pain was far more important than his own, he fought desperately forward for each step, reaching out for her.

 

As new limbs erupted from her brother’s body, Mabel’s legs grow together and her feet become fins. Her lungs feel like they’re filled with sand and her eyes burn, her skin felt so dry to her in that moment. Her voice called out in a shriek, echoing across the chamber with a dozen voices coming all at once from a deep recess within her soul. Gasping for breath, she clawed her way towards her brother, what seemed like the very last drops of moisture in her body leaking from her eyes onto the dusty stone cobbles. "Dipper…” Her call now gasping and weak “don’t…leave….me….” 

 

With that, dipper dug all four hooves into the ground and bound towards her, stretching his fingers as far as he could to twine with hers. Their finger tips only graze each other at first, but he fights on, gouging lines into the volcanic slab beneath him until he’s able to get a grip on her. 

 

A Howl rips through the vortex once more and the oppressive atmosphere disappears for a split second until lighting rips through their bodies a final time and the air itself seemed to explode, evaporating the clouds of color and light into nothingness. 

 

They cast their eyes over the forms of the other, then themselves. They were changed now, possibly forever, but at least they were the same now, but there’s a craving, a hunger. The light is different. It was just the early afternoon before, but the sun had dipped beneath the horizon now. Silently they embraced, and savor the closeness, despite the change, they still had each other. Their belongings are gathered back into their packs and slung onto their backs. 

 

Their sleek new forms glide through the jungle, swift predatory eyes cast about, and the noise of the jungle seemed to part for them. Despite it all, they held each other’s hands through the trek. The journey back should have taken nearly as long as the hike up had been, but they’re so much faster now, and their hunger drives them on, into the night. That hunger, that disgusting hunger that fills them both.

 

The forest becomes familiar before too long. Neither of them needed words for the feeling of dread roiling in their stomachs. They had to feed and the closest point of egress from the forest was….The shack lay dead ahead. They had to. There was no other choice. 

 

The back door to the shack almost seemed to lift off the hinges and glide gently inwards. There wasn’t even a creak of warning as they crept into the shadows of the familiar building. He’s a cagey old man though, it doesn’t surprise either of them to hear a change in his breathing. He knows they’re there.

 

“Hey, kids. I was getting worried. Was gonna have Soos go out lookin’ for ya-”  
“We’re….so hungry, Grunkle Stan…” When he turns to face them his expression mingles shock and at least a moment of terror. He covers it quickly though, the old cheat.  
"Wh-What happened to you kids? You…”  
“So hungry…” they inched forward, into the dim light cast by the old tube tv.  
“The two of you….you are….”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“SO FREAKIN’ CUTE!”  
“Yeah, yeah, we know. You got any fish heads? Like a butt-ton of fish heads would be good.”  
“Yeah, Mabes, or like Tuna.”  
“Yeah, but like a hundred cans.  
"Freakin’ at least. I could have sworn we packed more lunch, but we’re starving.”  
“I’m gonna make a mint off of you two! The Amazing Otter twins! Or Otter girl and River Boy! It’ll be a fortune over the weekend! Say, you think you could catch a fish in your mouth if the lookieloos throw ‘em?”  
“Grunkle Stan” Dipper reasoned “I’ll give you the weekend for half the profits and that’s the best deal you’re gonna get. After that you need to call Grunkle Ford to help us change back, or else Mabel is gonna glue zippers to out backs so all the tourists want refunds.”  
“I am so proud of you two. Come on, I think the pet store down the street has some of those orange and white fish swimming around out front. Free meals are the best kind!”


End file.
